Asked and Answered, or Breaking Sharon Raydor
by fragrantfields
Summary: Mothers have an image of what their child's life will be like. When that twists and cracks, the pain is like no other. You just hope you can withstand it...because you have to. And if you're lucky, you have some help. Warning for abortion & pro-choice content


It was absolutely, completely, her right to choose. She'd preached that to Rusty, after the other Sharon's awkward, awful visit. She'd left out her background, the petitions and support she'd shown in her younger years. Sharon's own religious feelings (and her feelings for her family, what they would think) had kept her from the more public marching, but she'd quietly supported Roe v. Wade, quietly cheered when it passed.

Today, though, all the words engraved in her mind about safety and options and choice seemed jumbled, scrabble tiles that shifted and mixed and reformed until nothing meant what she thought it did.

"Mom?"

The soft voice on the phone brought her back to the present with a sharp sting. "Mom" was needed right now. "Sharon" would have to wait until this was over.

"Sorry, sweetheart. Of course you have to do what you think is right. I didn't mean"—her throat tightened, choking off the words. "I just wish I was there. Are you sure you don't want me to come out there? Be with you?" Sharon gripped the phone tighter.

Emily's sigh sounded like it was coming from an older woman. "I'm just five weeks, Mom. It's just going to be like a really heavy period. My appointment's tomorrow at 4:30. I'll get both pills, and by Friday, it'll all be over."

Sharon took a deep breath. She could google this, she knew, but she wanted to hear this from her daughter, one more time. She wasn't sure if she needed to check Emily's own understanding or just didn't want to break their connection yet.

"So, you'll take the second pill on Thursday, you said?" Her throat worked again and she rubbed the front of her neck, trying to work the tightness away. "Would you"—Oh, God, what was she asking? _Why_ was she asking?—"could you call me when you take it?"

"I…Mom, that just feels—look, I'll take it at 5:00 on Thursday, okay? Around twenty-four hours after the first one. I don't want to be trying to remember to call you or have you make this…thing out of it. I mean…I know it is, but I just—"

"Okay, honey, I get it. However you need to do this, you do it. I just love you so much, and I wish I were there." She sniffled, holding the phone away for a second. "Making tea or something, you know?"

They exchanged a few more soothing words and then hung up, each going to face their own challenges. Sharon was still looking at her phone when she heard the familiar clattering and thudding of Rusty coming home, shedding books and tablets as he passed.

"Hey, I'm home! Just to change, then Gus and I want to hit the bike trail before it gets dark, and—" He broke off as he came to her bedroom door. She should get up, he'd be worried seeing her just sitting on the side of her bed, not her usual after-work routine at all.

"Mom? You okay?"

An automatic "I'm fine" came out of her mouth. Wasted words. Rusty had survived for years by being attuned to the signals and tells of others. He still had that skill, even when she wished he didn't keep it quite so honed.

He took a few steps into the room. "You sure? You look upset. Who was that? Is something wrong with Andy? Did he fall out again? Do you need me to—"

"Rusty!" She heard her voice rising and didn't care. "Andy's fine, I'm fine, everything's fine! Can I have a few minutes to myself, please?" The surprise in his eyes, the hurt, was one more inconvenient pain she didn't need right now. Didn't she have enough?

Mom time again. She made her tone soften. "We'll talk later. After you get back. Go have a good ride, and be safe, okay? Dorky helmet, the works?"

"Sure, Sharon. Just let me know if you need anything." He was already retreating out the door. She wondered if he used her name on purpose.

 _Be safe._ How many times had she said those two words to her kids? A hundred thousand? A million? Bicycle helmets and passports, plane tickets and apartment hunting.

And contraception. She'd reconciled her duties as Catholic and parent, solidified by her remembered panic at each pregnancy, before the cautious joy set in. Abstinence and condoms and birth control pills and everything else she'd been able to think of, couched in self-respect and responsibility and love.

 _Antibiotics. Freaking antibiotics_. Did she not cover that? She knew she'd talked about birth control failure. And what the options were after that. Maybe she hadn't stressed the details enough. She began poking at her memory of that part of motherhood while the sun faded in the LA sky. The sun slipped past the horizon as she told herself it didn't matter now. At 5:00 pm Thursday, it'd be done.

2:00 pm, LA time.

.

##############

.

It felt like a boss laying down guidelines, office rules, to a new subordinate. Andy took it better than she expected. There were a dozen things she didn't want to hear right now. Reassurance, agreement, assurances it would be okay…she'd had that already, first from Rusty, when she'd given him the bare bones of her reaction.

She'd tried to keep Emily's private reality confidential but even with Rusty's anxiety spiraling, he still had that edge. And really, saying a young woman had a medical situation that was not serious, but was obviously upsetting, and that it would be over soon…

Maybe he'd been researching abortion, thinking of his mother. It sounded like something he would do. At least he finally got it enough to leave her in peace, and they balanced out to a "If I can do anything…" before he gave her the space she craved.

Andy started and stopped a few times, and later, when this was over, she'd let him tell her his feelings, his experiences, his thoughts on…everything. Right now she was incredibly grateful that he was doing exactly as she asked: just be there, just don't talk about it, just…accept me, us, the situation, the solution.

At noon Thursday, when he told the others they were going take advantage of a lull in murders to go look at furniture, she grabbed her bag and walked past the grins and comments. Andy hadn't asked, he'd just done it. If he'd had offered, she would have said no, she didn't need to leave work for this.

She was glad he'd taken the decision out of her hands, just for this one thing. This was okay.

The hand at the middle of her back as they rode down the elevator was okay. And so was the squeeze of her shoulder when they got into his car, the pat on her thigh as he shifted the car into "drive."

She knew if she looked into his eyes she'd see all the love and support and understanding she could ever want. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. She'd take all that later. It was enough to know it was there and he wouldn't demand acknowledgement. She'd give him that when she felt less…hollowed out.

 _Jack._ Her stomach flipped as she thought of him in Andy's place. He would have started talking, bluster and blather, as soon as she'd gotten off the phone and would be doubling down now. He'd accuse, he'd lament, he'd scold, and Sharon would have tied herself up in knots arguing back. Thank God for Andy's ability to be at peace with silence once in a while. She flashed back to him in her office, saying "What do you need me for?" _This, Andy. Being like this, when it's what I need. Trusting me when I tell you what I want._

Away from the office, going up to her condo, he slipped his arm around her, a calming side hug that was as intimate as she could stand. His lips touched her hair before the doors opened. It kept her tears at bay until they were fully in the condo, in the kitchen, reaching for tea bags and cups. She looked at the bright red LED "1:15" on the microwave, noted the tiny "pm" down in the corner. It started then, slipping down her cheeks, gathering at the corners of her mouth, salty and warm, then trickling down her neck. Andy put the tea kettle down and wiped her tears with a brush of his thumb.

She backed away. "Andy, if I…I can't—not here." The kitchen seemed to fill with ghosts of family past and present, and it was every kitchen that had been hers, Emily and Ricky at different ages flickering in and out. Rusty, angry then shy then cooking and hugging her, Gus. Andy, awkward, hesitant, then sure and at home.

The kitchen was too crowded for this.

Andy kissed her forehead. "Do what you need to do, honey." He turned back to the stove as she walked back to her bedroom. Their bedroom, maybe. She wondered if it was their bedroom yet. Maybe the next one would be.

She took a deep breath as she entered the room. His cologne, faint from that morning's application. The herb-scented soap he preferred was in the mix as well, along with her more floral, fruit blossom scent.

Theirs.

It was theirs already. She nodded to herself as she kicked off her pumps. Just this once she'd toss her skirt and jacket over the chair without hanging them up. She lay down on the bed, on her side. She watched the clock flip its numbers, counting down.

Andy came in at 1:32 pm. He set the tea mugs down, one on each nightstand.

At 1:35 pm, he'd untied his shoes, taken off his tie, and lay down beside her, fitting himself to the curve of her spine.

At 1:36 pm he put his arm over her, whispering "I'm sorry, Sharon" and rested his hand on her belly.

The dam broke before the clock could flip to 1:37.

Later, Sharon would flush, embarrassed and horrified at her selfishness. How could she have been thinking of her own feelings at a time like that?

Thinking of half-dreams of her daughter, sitting shyly with a husband, hand on a still-flat stomach, telling Sharon she was going to be a grandmother. Listening to complaints about morning sickness and backaches and oh my God, how could she be so _tired_? Looking at labels on sunscreen and supplements to make sure it was all safe for a pregnant woman.

Her pregnant daughter. Carrying her grandchild.

Sharon's stomach clenched up tight as heavier sobs broke through. Andy held her closer as she gave in, memories of her own past pregnancies warring with her conscious mind. _It's the right thing, of course it's the right thing to do, and I'll always give her all the support she needs to be okay with this, and it'll be what it is, a correction of failed birth control._

Andy rubbed her back as her sobs deepened at 1:45.

He held her hair back when she threw up the few sips of tea she'd gotten down during one lull at 1:51, then walked her back to bed, offering her a cold washcloth for her face and eyes before they lay back down.

 _This is it, then, this is the worst of it, at least I can breathe._ She settled back against him, drawing his comforting arm around her again, lacing her fingers with his.

The clock flipped to 2:00 pm.

Sharon had thought the dam against her tears had broken earlier, letting everything go.

How could she have been so naive?

She could see the pill slip down Emily's throat, inexorable, irrevocable. Every word of _no!_ and _don't!_ and _stop!_ she'd held back came groaning past gritted teeth, howling from drawn-back lips. Pregnant bellies and tiny swaddled babies filled her vision while she beat her fists against the pillows and writhed with phantom pain. Dimly, she realized Andy was holding her with both arms now, one leg thrown over hers, providing something between comfort and restraint. The bed shook beneath them as her sobs twisted her face into horrific grimaces and pulled muscles in her sides. Somewhere in her grief, she was aware of soothing words, and hot tears against the back of her neck.

The storm passed as quickly as it had hit.

2:10 pm flashed from the bedside clock.

Sharon's hair was plastered to her cheeks and forehead. Her slip and the front of Andy's shirt were drenched with sweat. The bedspread under her face was tear-soaked and soggy. She felt a light kiss against her shoulder and Andy's grip loosened. She felt him roll away, then roll back against her, shoving tissues into her hand.

"Blow your nose," he whispered. "I'll get you some aspirin and water in a minute." He stroked her back and hip, and Sharon felt her muscles relax, loosening under his touch.

"You'll be okay, hon. I love you so much…I'd take this off you if I could."

.

##############

.

"You'll be okay, hon. I love you so much…I'd take this off you if I could."

Andy's words to her then, came from her mouth now, as she talked to an exhausted Emily that night. Her boyfriend had been with her, and Sharon wondered if he had held her and comforted her while she cramped and bled. Or maybe Emily had asked him to go make tea, putter around the kitchen, watch the game while she curled in on herself, private and alone.

She didn't know if she'd ask or not. This was Emily's business.

And Sharon's reaction was hers. She'd never tell Emily how she'd felt ripped to shreds as her "this is how life will be for my child" fantasies slammed into reality.

Maybe she'd hint at it, if Emily asked her how she knew Andy was "the one." That he'd seen her at her worst, and had been her anchor, her shield, when life shattered her defenses. She'd make it sound like it was about work, some heart-wrenching case, and give both her and her daughter some space.

She'd tell Rusty that different people react differently and maybe spin a life lesson or two out of this.

That's what mothers do.

Andy stood behind her, one hand on her shoulder as she sat on the couch, saying what she hoped were the right things into the phone. He was loving, and supportive, and he'd never mention this afternoon unless she brought it up.

She ended the call and snuggled her cheek against his hand.

 _"What do you need me for?"_

Asked and answered.


End file.
